


Things Which Will Destroy Me in the End

by guardofangels



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Slow Burn, god willing, or I intend for it to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:48:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardofangels/pseuds/guardofangels
Summary: As part of ensuring Bucky’s progress and rehabilitation post-Winter Soldier, Shuri requires him and Steve to go on trial field assignments together. This is their first extended mission, with the two of them being placed on assignment in an apartment funded by the Wakandan research division. The mission? Gathering local intel on poachers/crime syndicates in wildlife reserves on bordering countries to Wakanda with possible links to Hydra. Shuri and Okoye have a little more in mind for these two stupid boys than they strictly bargained for.Pre-Infinity War and Post-Civil War- look, I don't care about timelines. Just pretend this is all legitimate. Time is a social construct.





	1. Beginnings

_Steve_

 

Steve looked at the file Shuri handed to them the day before, reluctantly placing it on the conference table in front of him. He had spent the previous afternoon poring over it with Bucky in his lodgings, going over the details, working out the technicalities of the plan and strategies they would be using. The mission was expected to be longer term- spanning a few months depending on how long it took to gather intelligence on the group in question. This would be the longest of their test stints for Shuri and the Wakandan intelligence division, designed specifically with the purpose of providing Bucky with relatively simple, close-range missions to assess the progress of his rehabilitation and recovery.

This particular mission? Collecting intel on a target called Ross Gerber- known locally for his less than above-board connections to criminal outfits in the community, reputation for ruthlessness and ties to drug cartels internationally. He also dabbled in trading poached goods, so he got extra asshole points for that. But these issues were nothing compared to the real problem at hand.

What really made this mission more challenging than any of their prior work was the additional suspected ties to Hydra that Gerber had to his name. This would be the first of their missions that had a genuinely personal edge to it.

Steve sighed, remembering their argument in the flat yesterday. He had his doubts about this mission. It was long, arduous and far enough from Wakanda that they wouldn’t be able to guarantee a quick extraction should things go south for whatever reason. He was also anxious about the presence of Hydra in this operation, his last haunting experience with the organisation still fresh in his mind. These days, there’s rarely a morning when Steve doesn’t wake up haunted by dreams he wishes he couldn’t remember. He can’t imagine what Bucky must be feeling. When he had mentioned his reservations, Bucky had staunchly ignored him and insisted on going ahead with it. “I can’t hide forever, Steve,” he’d said, sighing and running his hand through his hair in frustration. “I feel a lot better and I honestly think it would help both of us to finish some of what we started with Hydra.” He was right, of course.

That wasn’t the only concern on his mind. The glaring issue for Steve was the fact that he’d be in close quarters with Bucky for the first extended time since they had fought Schmidt. This in itself wasn’t new- they’d roomed together plenty of times before and shared an apartment. The problem was… well. Sometimes they had moments. They? He. This was a specifically _Steve Problem_. Especially of late on their shorter test-missions. Moments where they’d talk and it would be so _achingly_ like their old camaraderie that it would take Steve’s breath away and it would bring back feelings he thought he’d managed to bury.

He thought back to the latest particularly memorable instance.  They had been laughing around a fire, camping near a suspected poaching site. Simple mission, in and out while collecting intelligence on illegal hunting in the area. They’d just finished up, Steve grumpily attempting to clean his boots, having stepped in some kind of animal droppings while pursuing their targets, an occurrence that Bucky took no small delight in laughing his ass off about.

 

* * *

 

_“You’d think they designed these things specifically for the purpose of getting crap stuck up in here,” he said, smacking the offending garment against a rock. Bucky, unrepentant and unhelpful, kept laughing at him from his position by the fire._

_"Aw Steve, you’re just angry because you used to be a short guy. You’re cranky at heart.” He laughed, eyes crinkling, and Steve snorted in response._

_“Is that how you talk to Captain America?” he asked mock-threateningly, pointing the boot at his friend. “I’m calling the President right now.”_

_Bucky simply smirked in response. “Doesn’t sound like you’re putting up much of an argument.”_

_Steve rolled his eyes. “How ‘bout you shut up?”_

_Bucky leaned back, a glint in his eye, the shadows cast from the fire over his face and raised his chin in mock-challenge. “How ‘bout you come make me?”_

_Steve paused, suddenly aware of his heartbeat in his ears and a sweat breaking out. He didn’t like what that tone of voice was doing to him or his apparently now_ very _creative imagination. He became aware that the silence had gone on a couple of seconds too long and noticed Bucky starting to look at him with a concerned expression. He felt his face heat up and forced a laugh out._

 _“You couldn’t handle it.”_ _He turned quickly, grabbing his sleeping roll and reclining in their tent.  “I’m turning in for the night. I’m tired.”_

_Bucky snorted behind him quietly from outside. “Okay, sure thing”._

_Steve grimaced and tried to focus on falling asleep as fast as humanly possible, pretending to be out cold when he felt Bucky enter the tent an hour later, settling into his sleeping bag next to Steve’s. He didn’t sleep a wink, his heartbeat and the warmth radiating from Bucky’s close proximity providing too much of a distraction to relax._

Since then, Buck never seemed to notice the reason behind Steve’s somewhat erratic behaviour. And why would he? He never had back when they’d shared an apartment either. This was something that he was going to have to deal with alone, a fact that he was certain of and had mostly come to accept. A hundred years of contemplation will do that to a man. However, the concept of spending months on end with him in close quarters, trying to keep his feelings in check, was more than he thought he could bear.

 

* * *

                                                                                           

“Steve?”

He blinked at the sound of his name and looked up at Bucky waving his hand in front of his eyes from his seat to the left. “Shuri was briefing us, anybody home in there?”

Steve shook his head, apologising. “Sorry Shuri, must’ve slept badly. My apologies. I was just thinking over the challenges with this mission in particular,” he paused as he saw Bucky begin to frown and backed up, wanting to avoid another disagreement.

“I just meant I wanted to make sure we were okay to go ahead. You sure you’re up for this one, Buck?” he asked, exchanging a look with him.

 Bucky huffed mirthlessly and cracked his knuckles. “Any chance I get to kick Hydra’s ass is one I’m taking.”

Shuri huffed out a laugh. “That’s the spirit!” She exchanged a look with Okoye from her position in the doorway. “I’ve set up accommodation for you both in a central part of the town, a few blocks from Gerber’s main residence,” she said, setting down a file on the table. “Thoroughly vetted and including some of my own personal additions to home security,” she paused, tapping her fingerprint to a pad on the table, allowing a compartment to open and pulling out a couple of spherical objects from it with an evil grin, “and patented weaponry should you need it.”  She tossed one each to them, Steve and Bucky reflexively catching them. Steve felt a sharp sting and light emanate momentarily from the object in question, hearing Bucky hiss “ _ow-_ what the fuck? _”_ to his left, shaking his hand vigorously. “What was that?!” he grimaced, rubbing his own mildly singed palm. Shuri laughed. “Forgot to mention it’s a prototype- oops!” Bucky glared at her and she rolled her eyes while grinning. “Ungrateful honestly. You’ll be thanking me later- that was the device taking a reading of your DNA so it will be locked to you and _only_ you. Can be used as a distress beacon and tracking signal for us should you require it…and also as a grenade if all else fails.” She paused to scribble down a test note. “I’ll try to work on that sting issue though, Okoye kicked my ass last time I gave her test equipment.” She shot a look at Okoye from across the room reproachfully. To her credit, the warrior looked unphased and merely raised an eyebrow a fraction higher.

Steve looked at his sphere warily and gingerly placed it on the table. “Is anything else rigged to possibly explode in here that we should know about?”

Shuri smirked. “I like to keep it a surprise.”

Bucky laughed and Steve shook his head amusedly. “I’ll be sure to remember that before I touch anything then,” he said, smiling.

“A good policy,” she agreed, spinning her chair to face the holo-projection of their mission suspended in the air above their desk. “One last thing, guys. This mission is strictly non-confrontational. If possible, avoid all contact with Geber and his lackeys. I want you both in on a long term observational basis to gather intelligence. He’s known to startle quickly and we can’t lose him again.”

She popped out another device from her desk with a press of a button. “The only time I need you to engage is to attach this tracker to his personal computer. We get that, we get him. It will be able to decrypt and steal his files.” She swivelled back to face them. “Think you can handle it?”

Bucky shot him a look and scooped up the tracker. “We’ve got this, right Steve?”

Steve sighed and forced a smile onto his face. He couldn’t say no.

“I’m in.”

 

* * *

 

They finished up their briefing and left together. Shuri turned to Okoye and smirked. “So, they took it,” she said, raising an eyebrow. Okoye returned the gesture.

“Of course. What have you planned for these two stupid boys?”

“Well I was wondering whether I should have told them I booked them into shared accommodation,” she grinned.

Okoye laughed this time, shaking her head. “You're a menace. Make sure you tell me everything."

"Of course."

 

 

 

 


	2. The Apartment

_Bucky_

 

Steve met Bucky the next morning at 5am for the drive to their lodgings. They had decided to go alone by car to avoid looking conspicuous on their arrival to town. They already made a fairly unusual pair, given their size and appearance, so they needed all the advantages they could get. The journey was pleasant, Steve choosing to drive and Bucky flipping through the playlists Sam had put together on his phone, sitting in comfortable silence and watching the trees fly by.

When they arrived, Bucky opened the door with biometric locks Shuri had fitted for them both and stretched, setting his bags down and going upstairs to check out their rooms and potential exit points. It was a nice enough space. Homely. Not what he was expecting of a Wakandan safe house, considering the lights and futuristic tech he’d seen in Shuri’s lab. It was beautiful, if somewhat shabby in a comforting, familiar way. Inconspicuous. Which is what they wanted, of course. After the demonstration in the lab, he was sure Shuri had decked it out with at least a dozen different well-hidden security measures beneath the simple exterior.

He stepped into the bedroom.

Bedroom? He stepped back out and checked the upstairs hallway, just to be sure.

Yep. One. Singular. He groaned. After their last experience in the tent, he didn’t exactly want to share a bed if he could avoid it. Sharing space with Steve was difficult at the best of times. The man was infuriatingly kind and attractive and made it hard to focus or relax. With a sigh, he resigned himself to cold showers for the entirety of their mission and called out to Steve downstairs.

 “You okay, Buck?” he called out in response, his footsteps echoing up the stairs to locate the source of concern. He finds it, alright.

“Is there something wrong with your room?” Steve asked, clearly failing to realise the situation at hand.

Bucky huffed a laugh. “ _Our_ room.”

“Sorry?”

“Not my room. _Our_ room. Shuri must’ve forgotten that in her briefing,” he said, with a tone of irony.

Steve blanched in response.

“ _Not the_ greatest _boost of confidence_ ,” Bucky thought, feeling mildly offended.

Steve gritted out a response, sounding slightly pained. “Must’ve been an oversight,” he said grimacing, “I guess I’ll take the couch.”

Bucky frowned slightly and felt a twinge of annoyance. “Steve, you don’t have to do that. We’ve shared beds before, it’s nothing new. We’re gonna be here for months.”

He kicked himself mentally, given the reservations he had had, not three seconds ago, hating the tone he was taking. Steve looked guilty and hastily came up with what Bucky considered to be a quite frankly piss-poor excuse.

“I know, I know, Buck. I just- I get restless and tend to sleep pretty fitfully- I don’t want to wake you up with my tossing and turning is all. It’s fine, I’ll take the couch.”

He backed out of the room at almost light-speed. Bucky turned to the window and sighed, starting to unpack their bags and set up their home. This was going to be a long assignment.

 

* * *

 

Once settled in, the two got stuck into work swiftly. Their first priority was to scope out the surrounding neighbourhood. If Bucky’s experience working for Hydra had taught him anything, it was to ensure your knowledge of the area was as good as a person who had lived there for years, if not better. There was nothing that guaranteed the success of a mission quite like having an established internal map of escape routes and lesser-known side streets. He had a natural eye for spotting these, more practiced than Steve, having needed the advantage of shadows to assassinate targets frequently in his past. A talent, he thought with a vicious stab of satisfaction, which he was going to exact upon the very people who bequeathed it to him, luck providing.

Steve had also been acting off since the moment they got here, which wasn’t helping matters. In response, Bucky felt tense and kept finding himself worrying over it anxiously. Distracting. He didn’t know if it was because Steve wasn’t used to present-day Bucky, or if he was tense because he was worried about the involvement of Hydra in this particular mission.

He sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair in frustration. And now this business with refusing to share a room. The guy was never a particularly competent liar. Rogers had always been like an open book.

“ _He’d be the world’s worst spy,”_ he thought in exasperation.

He had honestly thought Steve would be more relaxed about sharing close quarters. Sure, it would be a little cramped, what with two super-soldiers trying to fit into a queen bed, but they’d had worse. He kicked himself again for feeling conflicted.

“ _It’s fine,_ ” he thought. “ _Sharing a bed would only make things more awkward_.”

If only he could get his damn brain to stop feeling upset about it.

Over the past few test missions they’d been on, it had felt so natural, conversation and banter falling into place like there had never been a gap between them. Reuniting with Steve after all these years and the misery they’d been through was one of Bucky’s greatest sources of joy and sorrow. So much time lost. And the doubts. They crept into his head at night, gnawing at his brain, whispering “ _you’re not the Bucky he wants,”_ and “ _he’s secretly repulsed by you, murderer,”_ filling his heart with ice and the temptation to simply leave and never come back. They were both in hiding now because of _his_ actions, _his_ history and Steve’s loyalty to _him_ above almost everything else.  

Steve’s sudden change of behaviour and reluctance to be close to him was enough to set him on edge. To bring those awful, gnawing thoughts back to the surface. He sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

“Buck, are we ready to go?” Steve’s voice came from over his shoulder, making Bucky jump reflexively. Damn the man and his uncanny ability to sneak up on him. He had the good grace to look apologetic at least. He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts for the time being, and returned to focus on the mission at hand.

“Ready when you are, Steve.”

They headed out into the neighbourhood as the sun set.


	3. The Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go on a scouting mission. Things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten caught up in some major life changes at the moment so I've not had the time to write as much as I would normally- sorry!! Moving house, dating someone, and also working on taking up new studies and a career path are...intense. I'll still be trying to stick to a weekly schedule but forgive me if things are a few days late here and there :)) You can check my tumblr @starlitbarnes for updates + feedback if you like x

_Steve_

 

By the time they made it out into the main shopping street in the neighbourhood, darkness had well and truly fallen. Steve breathed in deeply, taking a moment to appreciate the sights and smells of Nairobi at night. The city was so different to Brooklyn, with it’s constant noise and packed streets. Sure, there were still some busier parts that reminded him of home, but there was less of the constant chaos he was so accustomed to. He listened to the squeaking of bus brakes throughout the streets and the sound of a busker a few blocks down and appreciated the brief moment of peace, humming his satisfaction.

Bucky nudged his shoulder with his own. “What’s up?” he asked.

Steve smiled.  “Nothing. It’s just so different from home, y’know?”

Buck nodded, jotting down a note of a side alley on the digital map Shuri provided them with.

“And peaceful,” Steve continued. “This is the first time in a long time there hasn’t been a war or a fight or something trying to kill one of us.” He felt a wave of sadness and anger at the thought. The two of them were a century old and had spent less time living their lives than fighting other people’s battles. Even now, in the peaceful evening, they were busy committing the layout of the town and various shortcuts  to memory, the ever-present weight of a mission weighing upon what would have been a beautiful experience.

He sighed and looked up at the clear night sky, the first stars beginning to show. It was difficult at the beginning of Bucky’s therapy. They’d found it hard to reconnect after all the years spent apart, Bucky feeling like Steve expected him to fall back into the way things always used to be, Steve constantly on edge and worried for Bucky’s safety. After months of working together and slowly growing to relax their guard and trust one another again, things had finally begun to feel like they were falling back into place. Steve only wished it could have happened under more “normal” circumstances.

He was started out of his reverie at the sensation of Bucky’s shoulder nudging his own and turned to look at him, finding a set of warm blue eyes filled with knowing looking back at him piercingly.

“You’re thinking too loud again, Steve,” he said, smiling softly.

Steve huffed a laugh in response and shook his head. “Am not.”

“It’s true!” Bucky exclaimed. “You get all tense and ball your fists when you’re overthinking things. C’mon, it’s a beautiful night, nobody’s tried to kill us yet and if we do this right, nobody will be.”

He looked down at his clenched hands. Damn. Guess Nat had a point about him being a crappy actor.

Bucky squeezed his shoulder briefly and walked ahead, calling out over his shoulder with a smirk,

“Chin up, Rogers. Besides, we’re two geriatrics who are cursed with youth. We’ve got all the time in the world to explore each other.”

Steven Grant Rogers, Captain _fucking_ America: War Hero, absolutely did  _not_ make an undignified choking noise in response.

To top it off, the cocky asshole _winked_ and kept on walking.

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling a faint blush spread upon his cheeks, the sensation of Bucky’s fingers trailing off his shoulder leaving a burning impression through his shirt. “ _I wish,_ ” he thought in frustration, and stomped after him in silence, jotting another shortcut down as if it had personally offended him.

 

* * *

 

They continued in this fashion for an hour or so until they worked their way to Gerber’s residence, Steve trailing Bucky and making notes as he pointed areas of interest out, avoiding large crowds and keeping a low profile where possible.

“That’s Gerber’s mansion just to the left,” said Bucky, giving a subtle nod in the direction of the home. It was ominous. Imposing. Large stark white rendered deco, with a large metal electronic security fence out front and visible cameras on the exterior. Barely any of the building was visible, hidden behind thick wild apricot shrubs, teeming with vicious looking spines.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Well, if he was going for a suspicious vibe, I’d say he’s definitely nailed the presentation on this one.”

Bucky snorted in affirmation. “Maybe he’s compensating. Lots of pricks, if you get my drift.” He waggled his eyebrows with a grin, much to Steve’s chagrin.

“Jackass,” he said, affectionately. “C’mon, let’s keep walking. We’re going to have to do another recon mission to get more intel on his security. Let’s clock off for tonight and get some food.”

“Firstly, you love me. Secondly, agreed. Shuri said there’s a place not far from here that we have to go to or she will, and I quote, “ _make sure we never leave Africa alive_ ”.

Steve made a concerted effort to ignore the leap of his heart in his throat at the former claim, quashing any sappy feelings down for the sake of his sanity.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they call me. _Steven “Loverboy” Rogers_ ,” he intoned, sarcastically, Bucky giving him a shiteating grin over his shoulder  in response. “When you’re done being a jerk let’s go make good on this food deal and not give our friends any reasons to kill us, huh?” He continued walking along the main street towards the fabled diner.

Bucky laughed. “Okay, _Loverboy,_ sounds like a plan to m-”

Bucky froze and Steve heard his breathing hitch a second before running into the back of him, caught by the sudden pause in motion. He felt a spike of concern.

“Bucky?” he queried.

Nothing. No response. Bucky remained frozen, breathing harshly and staring straight ahead. Steve felt a yawning pit open in his stomach. This wasn’t normal. It was reminiscent of his trigger-episodes. He gently placed his hand on his shoulder, hoping the physical contact would elicit a response, swivelling his head desperately to look down the street, trying to locate the source of Bucky’s erratic behaviour.

“Buck,” he implored, desperately this time. “It’s okay bud, I’m right here.”

He felt a swell of relief when Bucky appeared to turn to face him. It was short-lived however, at the expression on his face and the minor trembling he could feel in his shoulders.

“Steve,” he croaked, sounding lost.

“Tell me how you’re doing Buck, it’s okay,” he said, desperately trying to inject calm into his tone.

This appeared to snap him out of it, the walls behind Bucky’s wide, panicked eyes slamming down immediately, wrenching his arm violently back away from Steve as though burnt. He turned briskly, robotically, and began to sprint away, leaving a shell shocked Steve behind with their surveillance equipment.

“ _Fuck,”_ he whispered with feeling, sprinting after his friend. Apparently too late, as all traces of Bucky disappeared in the darkness of the Nairobi evening. Steve cursed himself, trying to maintain a calm facade and avoid drawing further attention. “ _What do I do?”_ he thought, panicked. Another lapse in Buck’s recovery might have dire consequences if he wasn’t located in time. If they didn’t manage to find him, the chance of Ross and his allies locating and detaining him, or at worst _killing_ Bucky on sight, would increase exponentially. He ducked into an alley and flipped open his communications array, Shuri’s face appearing on the screen almost instantly.

“Captain, what appears to be- are you okay?!” she asked, her tone quickly switching from calm to alert in a blink.

“Shuri, it’s Buck-” he choked out, taking a breath to centre himself before continuing. “It’s Bucky. He’s had an episode and I’ve lost contact with him. We need to find him, please, do you have any wa-”

“It’s okay, Steve. His arm has a unique signature that I can track. Give me 20 minutes and I’ll have updating coordinates of his whereabouts to you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. That was something at least.

Shuri spoke up again.

“Steve, I know the priority is Bucky’s safety at the moment, but were either of you sighted? Do we need an extraction?”

He thought back for a moment. There had barely been anyone around, besides the crowd in the restaurant they had been approaching, who had still been a reasonable distance away. It wasn’t inconceivable that someone may have noticed their behaviour, but nobody had reacted adversely when Bucky had run off.

He shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m almost positive our cover is safe.”

She looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“Do you have any idea what may have caused this reaction on his part?” she asked gently.

Steve frowned. “No. He wouldn’t tell me anything. He-” he sighed. “He looked at me like I was a stranger. He didn’t want to be near me.” He can’t help but let his anxiety slip out into his tone.

Shuri nodded sadly. “It’s okay Steve. I’ll start tracking him immediately and we can try talk him down. For now, I need you to wait at the safehouse for further instructions once I locate him. Try to stay calm and keep it covert.”

He nodded absently. It made sense.

“Steve?” she sounded concerned.

“Mm?” he grunted in response.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re going to find him.”

He gave a half smile and felt warmth blossom in his chest with gratitude for her.

“Thanks, Shuri. Keep me posted.” He ended the call and began the walk back to the safehouse, gut twisting with anxiety.

 

  
“ _Please come back to me Buck,”_ he silently pleaded into the night.


	4. The Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve begins to deal with the fallout of their recon failure.  
> *sings* /all that we could do with this emotion/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all thank you for leaving kudos and reading my stuff! Much appreciated. I'm trying to stick to my one weekly/ once every 1.5 week schedule for now. As per usual, you can check out the updates tab and chat to me @starlitbarnes if you want info. I also really value feedback as this is my first attempt at a long fic- anything is super appreciated :))

_Steve_

 

Steve got back to the apartment shortly afterwards, worry clouding his thoughts, obsessively thinking over potential scenarios and imagining the worst outcome every single time without fail.

He switched on the lights to the kitchen and sighed, running a hand fitfully through his hair in frustration. This was a mistake. He had known it all along. He thought back to their argument over the mission and felt a pang of regret at not pushing harder to hold off on this particular assignment. “ _Stupid,”_ he thought, berating himself.

He set the surveillance equipment and digital map down on the kitchen counter gently, pacing back and forth in anxiety while he waited for Shuri’s call. Surely it couldn’t be that much longer now? He checked his watch in agitation.

“ _She said twenty minutes,”_ he thought when a thump from upstairs froze him in his tracks. He felt an ice-cold trickle down his spine. It could be nothing. Could be something as simple as a book falling off the edge of his desk. But after tonight? Not fucking likely. He felt a wave of panic set in. _“Could someone have followed me?”_ he wondered wildly, trying to recall the routes he had taken to get back to the safehouse. He wracked his brains for any recollection of other people suspiciously tailing him, walking silently to the kitchen counter and pressing a button on the underside, triggering a hidden tray of knives to fold out from the marble surface. Grabbing a curved combat knife, he quickly opened his phone and shot a text message to Shuri.

“ _Safehouse compromised. Intruder inside. One hostile detected, possibly more on the way.”_

Locking the phone, he stowed it in his pocket and cursed himself for leaving his shield upstairs in their bedroom. “ _The knife will have to do,”_ he thought grimly, fixing his jaw and silently padding up the stairs to confront the intruder, checking the corners for any nasty surprises coming his way from above. Nothing. Empty hallway. As he stepped onto the landing of the first floor, the soft noises from their bedroom stopped abruptly in response to his footsteps.

“ _Fuck it,”_ he thought, and charged the door, smashing it off its hinges and utterly splintering it in one swift motion, rolling to the side to avoid potential gunfire. He leapt up and dived for the intruder, bits of sawdust from the smashed door flying in the air as he made a lunge for their arm, attempting to throw the offending person to the floor and incapacitate them. If you had asked him about his feelings on this plan at the time, he would have said he was reasonably confident in his chances of success.

What happened _instead_ was the mystery intruder managing to unexpectedly block Steve’s blow, grab his outstretched arm and use his momentum to pin him on the ground.

“What the actual _fuck_ Steve?” grunted Bucky from above him, still pinning him down and grimacing with the strain of holding back a very stressed-out super soldier.

“Buck?” Steve felt an enormous wave of relief wash over him, relaxing instantly. Followed up swiftly by a wave of annoyance. “Wait, what do you mean ‘ _what the fuck Steve_ ’, what the fuck is going on with _you?”_   he said indignantly, feeling chagrined from his position on the floor. “You just up and left! I was worried someone had tailed me here! I didn't know _what_ to think. What happened back there?”

Some of the fight left Bucky’s posture at that, his shoulders slumping minutely. “Hydra,” he gritted out.

Steve felt his mouth go dry and his heart began to pound in his ears. “What?” he croaked. “Where?”

“Back at the restaurant. Saw an operative at one of the tables.” He sounded reluctant to talk about it.

“Shit, are you okay Buck? What about your reaction? Did you know hi-”

Buck jutted his chin out and cut him off with a snarl. “It’s _fine_ Steve. I’m still adjusting. I just wasn’t expecting to see a Hydra agent here on the first night. That’s all. It won't happen again.”

Steve felt a pang of worry. “Buck,” he said softly, “y’know it’s okay if you’re not 100 percent fine, right?” He softened his gaze and instinctively stroked a thumb comfortingly over one of Bucky’s wrists, still pinning his own to the floor. “I’m here for you. Always. No matter what you’re going through.”

Bucky looked down, averting his eyes and leaning into the touch. “I know, Stevie,” he said, finally releasing Steve’s wrists from their pinned position and scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly. “I’m just- Can we talk about this later? I just need a bit of space” he said, sighing.

Steve tried to smile reassuringly, still feeling concerned. “Okay Buck, whatever makes you feel most comfortable. You can tell me anything you want, _whenever_ you want.”

Bucky visibly relaxed and nodded. “I know. Just- just give me a bit of time,” he implored, with a pleading look.

“Of course.”

Steve shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how close they were, Bucky’s thighs still straddling his hips and pinning him to the floor. He cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling a flush of pink tinge his cheeks, and shifted again minutely. “Um,” he croaked out, brain coming to a screeching halt when he looked up at Bucky who, god _damn_ it, was staring straight at him from beneath his fringe with a piercing look. “Bucky?” he asked, voice coming out in a whispered question. Bucky’s eyes flicked down to look at his lips and back up into Steve’s eyes. Time seemed to slow and Steve felt his breath hitch as Bucky stared at him with an unreadable expression in the dim light. Steve's throat went dry and heat crawled down his neck and spine to pool in his belly. Curse his pale Irish skin and its constant proclivity for making him look like a blushing dame at the worst imaginable times. With a Sisyphean effort, he fought off the urge to do something ridiculously irrational like grind up into his oldest friendand tried again to navigate the situation back to calmer, less sexually tense waters, coughing awkwardly to break the uncomfortable silence.

“Buck, I’m real sorry but do you mind letting me up? I need to call off Shuri’s reinforcements. I might’ve started a panic back in Wakanda.” He chuckled somewhat hysterically, attempting to defuse the stifling mood that had settled upon them.

This seemed to snap Bucky out of his reverie and he jerked backwards, jumping up off Steve and rubbing his arm awkwardly.

“Yeah, of course- sorry, still a bit zoned out I guess,” he said dismissively, holding out a hand to help him up.

Steve grasped his friend’s hand, feeling his pulse thudding rapidly through his body and the remnant heat from Bucky’s proximity on his skin. “Right, uh, just gonna go message Shuri,” he stammered, pointing awkwardly in the direction of the kitchen. “Be right back.”

He tripped out of the room hastily, cursing himself silently for the awkwardness of his exit. “ _Stupid feelings,_ ” he thought, “ _ruining every goddamn moment_.” He stomped downstairs, scooping his phone out of his pocket and swiftly pulling up a video call with Shuri, who picked up almost immediately.

“Captain, is everything alright?” she asked.

“Yeah Shuri, more than fine actually. I’ve found Bucky. You might wanna call off those extra reinforcements asap” he grumbled, embarrassed.

She looked slightly guilty in response.

Steve sighed. “Which you already knew, I take it.”

Her eyes darted to the side. “I’m sorry Captain, I received his tracking signal about a minute after you messaged me. I tried to call you but you had already engaged him in combat by the time I put it together.” She sounded apologetic. “I didn’t call reinforcements because I thought he would be more likely to respond positively to you.”

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Stupid phones.

“Well, no harm done I guess. He’s here and that’s all that matters.”

She smiled sympathetically. “That’s true, Steve.” She paused. “How is he? Is he back to himself again?” she asked tentatively.

 _“A good question,”_   he thought worriedly. He put on what he hoped was a convincingly hopeful expression. “I think he’s doing fine now, Shuri. He was rattled by a Hydra agent he spotted while out on our recon mission.”

She hissed. “ _Shit._ You’ve made contact with them already? I was hoping you might be able to avoid most interactions with Hydra on this one.” She frowned. “Did they spot you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m sure they didn't,” he said trying to project confidence into his tone. “I’m going to debrief with him later when he feels calmer. I’ll keep you posted on what’s happening when I know more.”

She nodded briefly. “Understood. For now, take a day to lie low before getting back in the field. I want to make sure we haven't blown our cover in the meantime.”

He smiled appreciatively. “Thanks Shuri,” he said warmly.

“Take care, Captain,” she said, closing the call.

He sighed in relief, slumping against the wall of the kitchen and running his hand through his hair. This mission was going to have him pulling half his fringe out from stress at this rate. He started at Bucky’s voice from the doorway of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry Steve,” he said, arms folded and eyes cast down. Steve felt his heart contract in sympathy.

“Hey now,” he said, attempting to inject some levity into his tone, “what’s there to be sorry about?”

Bucky glared at him. “You know what, Steve, don’t bullshit me,” he said, beginning to pace the kitchen.

Steve felt his smile drop. "What?"

“I _know_ you had misgivings about this particular mission and I _know_ you were worried I wasn’t ready. I’m sorry for pushing,” he choked out. “I’m sorry for putting all this pressure on you, having to take responsibility for your fuck-up of a friend.” His voice broke at the end, and he scrubbed an arm over his eyes roughly, turning his face away. Steve felt his heart break and stepped forward, hand outstretched towards his shoulder.

“Buck-” he whispered.

Bucky shrugged his hand off roughly as if burned.

“I’m going to bed,” he said hoarsely, turning away. “If you want to go back to Wakanda tomorrow and call it quits we can talk about it then. Just wanted to say I’m sorry is all.” He stomped upstairs, leaving Steve with his hand still outstretched in the kitchen, utterly lost.

Steve withdrew his hand and stared at the vacant space that Bucky had just occupied. He felt fucking _miserable._ He wanted nothing more than to bound upstairs and demand that Bucky listen to him, to prove him wrong, to tell him how _worth it_ he really was.

But something stopped him. He was scared. He didn’t want to push Bucky away by being overbearing. Better to give him space like he had asked. He would talk when he was ready to.

Feeling immensely guilty, Steve gathered his bags and set up a blanket on the couch, switching the lights off and straining to listen for Bucky’s movements above. Nothing much was coming from the bedroom. He sighed, trying to block out the memory of the sound of Bucky’s voice breaking, and tossed about, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. “ _In the morning, I’m going to talk to him,_ ” he promised himself silently and eventually fell into a fitful sleep.

 

* * *

 

He woke what felt like a couple of hours later to the sound of pained whimpering. He jolted upright immediately, blankets falling around his legs, heart thudding loudly. Another soft cry came from upstairs and he leapt out of bed, panicking, and hurtled up the stairs three at a time to Bucky. “Buck!” he cried out, running through the doorway, stopping dead at the foot of the bed. The super soldier was tossing and turning violently, sweat beaded on his forehead, dampening his long dark hair and fists clenched in the sheets. Steve felt his heart contract again painfully. Nightmares. He’d had his fair share of night terrors, especially since the exposure of Hydra and the fight with Stark, often involving Bucky dying or the slow creeping feeling of being frozen, the icy sensation filling his chest enough to wake him up shuddering to catch his breath.

He gently walked forward, trying his best not to alarm Bucky, and sat on the bed, feeling the mattress give slightly beneath him. He felt a surge of tenderness and started to murmur to him softly.

“Hey Buck, it’s okay,” he whispered tenderly, brushing back his friend’s hair behind his ear without thinking and flushed at the realisation of what he had done instinctively, placing his hand back by his side quickly. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, trying to soothe Bucky. Slowly, his erratic movements slowed and his eyelids fluttered partially open, turning his face gently towards Steve’s direction.

“Stevie?” he mumbled sleepily. Steve smiled softly at the nickname.

“Yeah sweetheart, it’s me. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Bucky murmured something unintelligible and turned towards Steve, slipping back into a deep sleep, breathing slowly evening out once again. He watched Bucky’s face, peaceful and calm once again, and felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. He briefly considered leaving to his position in the living room but dismissed it immediately.

“ _He needs me here. That’s all this is_ ,” he promised to himself.  He leaned back against the headboard and folded his arms, assuming sentry position, and slowly drifted off.

The two slept more soundly that night than either of the men had for years.

 

* * *

  _Wakanda_

 

“You should have _seen_ it Okoye,” Shuri cackled. “We had it all. Drama, fighting, Steve’s romantic puppy-eyes, the works.”

Okoye laughed in response. “I’m just glad you’re using your evil tactics on _them_ and not me.” She paused and looked concerned for a moment. “Don’t you think you should have warned the Captain of White Wolf’s whereabouts before letting him go upstairs?”

Shuri scoffed. “Come on, I knew he was at the safehouse the second the Captain called me. They wouldn’t have had that glorious discussion about their feelings if I had interfered and made it easy on them. Where’s the fun in that?”

Okoye rolled her eyes. “Of course, of course. And how is the bedroom arrangement panning out for you?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Shuri grinned, pulling up the security camera footage from the living room. “Steve appears to have left his post at the couch so I think we can safely assume Plan Supersoldier XXX is a go.”

Okoye stuck two fingers down her throat, miming gagging.

“Please tell me you are _not_ calling it that. _Or_ filming them in their own bedroom _for the love of Bast._ ”

“I am _absolutely_ calling it that and no, of _course_ I don’t have a camera in their bedroom. Only in places where there are direct entry points. I’m not depraved,” she scoffed indignantly.

“Oh well, praise be for that,” Okoye said sarcastically.

“It’s all going to work out as I have planned Okoye.”

“ _Suuuuure_ it is.”

“Ye of little faith.”


	5. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our beautiful boys talk some things out. Others not so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one this time- sorry! I have more planned but life is still busy as fuck lately. As ever, you can check for updates @ starlitbarnes on tumblr and shoot me a message anytime. Feedback and comments are as always, deeply appreciated x

**Bucky**

 

Bucky woke up early the next morning to the sounds of birds calling.

He sighed contentedly, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the sunlight filtering through their linen curtains, and snuggled up into Steve, tangling their legs further. Steve, still asleep, grumbled softly and wrapped his arm tighter around Bucky’s waist.

 _Hold up._ Steve?

His eyes shot open as realisation dawned on him. Steve. Steve was here. Steve Loverboy Rogers was _here_ in his goddamn bed and thoroughly wrapped around him, exhaling softly into Bucky’s neck as he snored lightly. Bucky felt a deep flush crawl down his neck and fought the urge to run, taking a moment to roll his eyes to the heavens and ask God what exactly the _fuck_ he thought he was playing at. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed in Steve’s death-grip and slowly sneaked a glance down at the man. He sighed. Steve was too damn beautiful for his own good. He let his eyes trail down the soft dusting of freckles on his cheeks (a remnant from his days before the serum) and over the new scraggly beard that had begun to form over the past few months and felt a brief pang of sadness. He was starting to look a little older. They both were. Bucky couldn’t help but wonder how many of those faint lines around Steve’s eyes could be attributed to the strain of the past months of his return to the land of the living. He thought back to their argument last night and winced.

He had meant it. All of it. Steve was still on the run as a direct result of his association with him. Hell, he wasn’t even able to guarantee he wouldn’t blow their cover on these simple missions, let alone somehow claw his way back to normalcy, whatever _that_ was. Sometimes the memories from his time with Hydra were too much, too big, too loud to ignore and there was nothing he could do but run away. And now even after all the arguing, the tension after last night, Steve was still right beside him, comforting him, giving him more than he deserved.

“Can hear ya thinkin’ out loud y’know,” came a slurred voice from beside him, snapping him out of his reverie. He flinched and tensed up, trying to pull away guiltily. A firm hand gripped his waist, keeping him secure. Bucky looked down at Steve, to find him looking up at him with clear blue eyes.

“Steve-” he choked out, unsure of how to begin. He was resolved to continue their conversation. “ _Be firm this time Barnes, it’s for the best,”_ he thought, steeling himself for the fight he was going to have to put up to get Steve to safety. Steve broke his train of thought again, clearing his throat.

“-s’ok.”

“Huh?” Bucky grunted. Steve smiled sadly.

“I said it's okay, Buck. I wont stop you from leaving if you want to. That’s your choice. But you'll always be my best friend-”

Bucky shook his head violently, attempting to protest. “Steve do you _hear_ yourself right now? I almost blew our cover last night an-”

“Will you let me _finish?”_ Steve’s eyes were burning as he looked at Bucky, sitting up further and gripping Bucky tighter. Bucky shut his mouth and waited, upset.

“I didn’t drop everything I know, or fight the way I did all to lose you here. You are _everything_ to me. You get that, right? Unless you really mean it, and you want me gone, I’m afraid the deal is just like it always was bud, til’ the end of the line, and that’s just how it goes.” Steve was defiant, staring at Bucky in challenge, jaw set stubbornly.

Bucky felt a lump rise in his throat and his eyes began to prickle.  _This wasn't how this was supposed to go._

“Steve, what if this shit gets you _killed?_ I don’t care about anything else, but you’ve got a target on your back- I’m not taking that risk-”

“Well then I wont die,” Steve said simply, cutting him off. Matter of fact. As if he could just _decide_ when he would or would not die. Typical Steve Rogers, so stubborn even Death has to wait until he’s damn well ready to go, thank you very much.

Steve shrugged. “And if I _do_ die, then-” he choked a little, flushing slightly, “then I’d it rather be with you than anyone else.” Even this, said with defiance, looking straight into Bucky’s eyes. Scorning God himself. Daring Him to try his best. Daring Bucky to tell him otherwise. The stubborn as hell kid from Brooklyn so clearly present before him, even now after all these years.

Bucky inhaled sharply, overwhelmed by this outburst, and finally relaxed minutely into Steves grip, sighing heavily.

“Me too,” he whispered, flushing slightly at this admission. “But you’re a goddamn fool, Steve.”

Steve grinned. “That’s why you love me,” he quipped.

“I-” Bucky began, and stopped, choking on his retort and feeling his neck heat up. His breath hitched, and time seemed to slow as his treacherous eyes trailed down to Steve’s lips and back up to his inquiring gaze. Steve’s fingers gripped the back of Bucky’s shirt a little tighter and they both sat in silence, staring at each other and counting their breaths. Bucky licked his lips and swallowed, watching Steve’s eyes dart to his mouth, and felt a prickle of heat down his spine.

He took a deep breath and began,

“Steve, I-”

They both jumped as Steve’s communicator beeped from the living room downstairs. Steve leapt up, startled from their entangled position, and ran downstairs with a quick apology to take the call.

Bucky fell back into bed and threw an arm over his bright red face, heart pounding in his ears.

  
“ _I’m so fucked,”_ he thought wearily.


	6. The Phonecall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk shit out some more. Some mishaps occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a bit of a roll lately so stuff should be back to weekly uploads :))  
> Also the more I write this, the more I realise that it's gonna be a really slow developing thing. Hope y'all are buckled in for the long haul.  
> Comments and feedback are my lifeblood. You can find me/updates/chat on tumblr @ starlitbarnes x

Chapter 6:

 

_Bucky_

 

One composed enough to leave the bed, Bucky staggered to the bathroom and blasted the coldest possible shower he could stand. He didn’t like the cold any more, not after everything he’d been through, but it served as a reminder to get his thoughts about his friend in check, that’s for sure. He sighed, shuddering under the cold water, and tried to collect himself. Steve clearly wasn’t going anywhere without him, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to be anywhere without Steve either.

_“I’d rather it be with you than anyone else.”_

Bucky replayed his words over and over again.

“ _What did he mean by that?”_

It was agonising. They were having more and more of these conversations of late, going places Bucky wasn’t comfortable with, bringing up feelings he would rather keep hidden, moments too intimate and too _much_ and sometimes, just sometimes, he could almost convince himself that Steve felt the same way too. He shook off the idea. “ _B_ _etter not to hope for impossible things,”_ he thought resolutely.

 

* * *

 

He went down shortly afterwards to find Steve still chatting with Shuri on the phone, projecting her image onto the dining table. They both looked up at his entrance, Shuri waving enthusiastically at him with a beaming grin and Steve giving him his customary “ _are you okay????”_  puppy eyes.

“Glad to see you back again Bucky.” she said warmly,  “How are you feeling this morning?”

He leaned against the bench and folded his arms.

“Been better, I guess. I don’t know how much Steve has told you but we’ve been having some disagreements.”

He saw Steve frown slightly in his peripheral vision.

Shuri nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, he’s been telling me some of the things you’ve been worried about. I take it you’re concerned you’ll have another episode.”

He nodded roughly, averting his eyes.

“Do you want an extraction? You could come back to Wakanda and take more time to recuperate?”

Bucky looked up in shock. “You’d genuinely offer that? What about the mission?”

Shuri nodded. “Of course. You condition is as much psychological as it is physical. Often recovery from traumatic experiences like yours isn’t straightforward and we want to support you however we can.” She smiled softly. “The mission can wait.”

Steve visibly stiffened but made eye contact with Bucky from behind Shuri’s projection.

“She’s right Buck,” he said, sounding pained. “If you need space and time to recover, take whatever you need.” He took a deep breath.

“And-” he faltered and looked up, “And if you need a break from me, that’s okay too.” He broke eye contact and wavered at that, clearly trying his best to maintain some semblance of calm.

Bucky felt a lump rise in his throat. “ _God damn it,_ ” he thought wildly. Stupid, perfect Steve, always trying his best to make Bucky happy, no matter how much it would hurt his feelings in the process.

He sighed heavily. “Thanks Shuri, but I’m gonna have to take a pass on your offer this time round.” He turned to look at Steve, who had glanced up in shock at him from across the kitchen.

“I think I have all the support I need here,” he said, gazing at Steve. “If he’ll have me, that is.”

“ _Last chance to back out now, Stevie,”_ he thought wryly.

Steve beamed.

“‘Course I will, Buck.”

Shuri smiled with quiet amusement but didn’t look surprised, glancing between the two soldiers grinning like idiots at each other across the space and cleared her throat, startling them both.

“Well, gentlemen, I’m glad you’ve both worked this out.”

She pulled out another screen from off-camera, scrolling through something rapidly.

“Now, to address the operative Sergeant Barnes saw the other day.”

They both grew serious again, turning to face her.

“I’m currently still working on tracking Gerber’s men for signs that you might have alerted them the other night,” she paused, looking up. “I need you to give me another day before you go near his residence again until I can give you the all-clear.”

They both nodded. It made sense. Bucky felt a wave of appreciation for her resourcefulness. Shuri had been nothing but a pillar of support in his recovery, and was always eager to demonstrate her prototypes to him. He had come to genuinely trust and rely upon her judgement in the field over the past missions he had worked with her and Steve. If she needed a day to secure things, he was happy to provide it.

She continued, “I’d suggest taking some time today to work through whatever issues you’ve been having.” She faltered slightly, seemingly unsure of her next words.

“I know it’s not really my place to say, but I’m sensing that some of the concerns you’ve been having might be resolved through talking things out a bit more than you are at present.”

Both Bucky and Steve shifted guiltily at this. Bucky felt his face flush slightly. If only Shuri knew what particular _concerns_ he’d been having regarding Steve.

“ _Pretty sure she doesn’t mean she wants me to make some bizarre love declaration when she says she wants us to communicate,”_ he thought wryly.

“Anyway,” she said, “I’d also recommend doing some sparring practice while you have the downtime. I’ve set up the basement with plenty of training equipment should you need it, coded to your retina scans. Fully secure and pretty fucking cool if I do say so myself.” She grinned. “Nobody is getting in there except you two so rest assured, it’s a safe place to practice.”

Steve smiled warmly. “Thanks, Shuri, you’re the best. We’ll take you up on that.”

She laughed. “I know.”

Bucky rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Are we done for now? I’m gettin’ kinda hungry over here.”

She nodded. “Yeah, mostly. One last thing though- Steve, I was wondering if I could talk to Bucky alone for a minute?”

Steve’s brow furrowed minutely before he pushed himself away from the bench. “Sure thing, I’ll be out in the living room,” he said, with a tone of slight puzzlement, looking back and forth between them. He drifted out and left Bucky alone with Shuri, who turned to face him, expression growing serious.

He felt his stomach clench slightly in anticipation.

She began gently,

“James, I know you don’t want to talk about the operative.”

He immediately crossed his arms defensively and she held her hands up.

“Wait- just let me finish. I know who he was. I know about him.”

Bucky froze, feeling his heartbeat begin to spike again. “What do you mean?” he croaked, although he had a feeling he knew.

She sighed in sympathy. “I did a bit of digging based off the restaurant’s security footage from the night. I know what he did to you. I didn’t mention it with Steve in the room because I had a feeling you should be the one to decide how you want to talk about it.”

Bucky swallowed thickly and felt a surge of panic. “I don’t _want_ to talk about it, Shuri. Hell, I don’t even want to fucking _think_ about it.”

She grimaced. “I know. Believe me, I know. But he’s going to find out one way or another, Bucky. And he needs to be ready to face this guy if you have another lapse and aren’t able to handle it on your own.”

He winced. She was right. Objectively he knew it. But Steve already had to put up with so much baggage from him. It didn’t feel right to saddle him with more grief. Steve had gotten better at masking how hearing about Bucky’s history affected him, but at the end of the day, he was a terrible actor. He knew it upset him. The man might have seen horrific things in his lifetime, (he was a soldier after all) but it was another thing to hear it from someone you _knew ,_  to know that someone you cared about had personally experienced those horrors.

Shuri seemed to sense his hesitation.

“Bucky, he cares about you. You could tell him _anything_ and he’d stand by you. You need to be honest with how you’re feeling if this is going to work,” she implored, looking at him with pleading eyes.

He snorted derisively.

She crossed her arms. “I mean it,” she said firmly. “ _Talk_ to him.”

“Yessir,” he grated out, doing a mock salute.

“Don’t make me come over there, Barnes.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

They ended the call, Shuri’s words still echoing in his head. They seemed to hold double the significance, given how he was feeling towards Steve lately. He remembered Shuri’s other instructions and closed his eyes in frustration. Now of all days, when he’d almost blurted out a goddamn _love confession_ while chest to chest with Captain fucking America, was not the most ideal time for aggressive bodily contact. It was like Shuri was specifically trying to torture him. Talking about his feelings _and_ hand to hand combat with Steve? That was a bit much to fucking handle, thanks.

 

* * *

 

 

He decided to put off thinking about the inevitable conversation he’d need to have with Steve for the time being, and got started with trying to cook something for breakfast, cracking a couple of eggs for them both into a pan, and beginning to chop up some onions. Steve must have heard him clanking pans about in the kitchen because he popped back in shortly afterwards, coming up to stand behind Bucky and peer over him at the stove.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky felt the all-too-familiar sensation of his traitorous heart beginning to race again, triggered by Steve’s close proximity. He shouldered him off roughly in mock-irritation.

“Making breakfast, obviously. Now get out of my way, Rogers, before I ram this spatula up your ass,” he threatened, waving the utensil at him pointedly.

The jackass wiggled his eyebrows. “Hmm, kinky,” he said with a grin.

Bucky resolutely did _not_ choke in response, nor did his cheeks flush at the tone in Steve’s voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, flustered, turning back to the stove. He brushed his hair behind his ear. “You’re gonna make me burn the eg-”

He froze slightly.

“Buck?” Steves tone had gone back to alert and cautious immediately, the joking tone dropping from his voice entirely.

Buck heard his heart thumping loudly in his ears. Why did that sensation of hair behind his ear feel odd? It was an almost-memory, intangible. The feeling of fingers brushing his fringe deftly behind his ear in the dark, a voice murmuring above him. _Steve’s_ fingers? He whirled to face him, holding the spatula threateningly once again.

“Last night- did I- did you-” he broke off, stammering. “ _What the fuck are you thinking, Barnes?”_ he thought wildly. “ _What, were you just going to casually ask him if he was caressing you last night? Get a fucking grip man.”_ He gaped wordlessly, trying to find a way to backpedal.

Steve looked nonplussed.

“Never mind,” he snapped, turning back to the stove and pretending to be engrossed in cooking their meals. “ _It had to be a dream,”_ he thought feverishly.

Steve mercifully let the topic drop, thank _Christ_. He turned back after a brief pause.

“So. I’ve been thinking.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Oh? That’s a first.”

Bucky snorted. “Can it, jackass, as if you can talk.”

He received a smirk in response.

“I’m being serious. I know you didn’t want to do this mission. Do you want to go back to Wakanda? Because it’s the last time I’ll ask.”

Steve looked at him thoughtfully for a couple of moments.

“It’s up to you Buck. I don’t know what triggered you last night, or what your past involves with that particular operative you saw, but this is about what you’re comfortable handling.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully. “This is _your_ recovery and in the end, I want to support you however you want to go about it.”

Bucky released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and felt a rush of gratitude towards his friend.

“Thanks, Stevie.”

He paused, feeling suddenly incredibly vulnerable.

“I- I think I wanna talk about the person I saw last night a bit later,” he blurted, forcing the words to come out. “If you’re okay with that?” he looked up warily to face Steve.

He smiled warmly and clapped him on the shoulder. “Of course. Any time you want.”

Bucky exhaled. “ _No stopping it now, I guess,”_ he thought. Shuri was right. They needed to talk about his history before they could go forward. Somehow, now that he had admitted as much to Steve, the concept didn’t seem as daunting. He smiled softly at him, who looked back with a curious expression.

“Hey Buck?”

“Mm-yeah?” he replied, snapping out of his reverie.

“The eggs are on fire.”

He yelped, snapping his head back to look at the small burning pile of food on the stove he had left abandoned.

“ _What the FUCK?”_ he shrieked, slamming a lid down on the offending pan and stifling the flames, Steve laughing his ass off in the background.

“We’re gonna have to work on your cooking skills,” he grinned, wiping tears of laughter away.

Bucky deemed that comment unworthy of a response, flipping him off as he dumped the blackened contents of the pan in the bin.

They abandoned the concept of cooked food and threw together a rough meal from the packaged food they’d brought with them, protein bars providing a safe, non-flammable meal in lieu of their charred first attempt.

 

“Y’know,” Steve said, chewing thoughtfully on his bar, “we haven’t had a real meal since we got here. ”

“Well, by all means, fix that situation Steve. The kitchen’s right there,” he retorted.

Steve laughed and held his hands up defensively.

“Whoa, touchy about our eggs are we?”

Bucky rolled his eyes to Steve’s amusement.

He continued, “Cool it, I was gonna suggest making some local dishes while we have a free day- Shuri left us plenty of supplies in here. Might as well try something new, right?”

Bucky smiled despite himself.

“Yeah, sure Steve.”

 

Maybe the day off would turn out better than expected after all.


	7. Lovers/Fighters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our sweet idiots get to sparring practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in uploading again :(  
> Life has been genuinely busy with both good and bad things. I'll do my best to keep going regularly (back to 1.5 weeks again I guess)

 

_Steve_

 

Steve cleaned up the kitchen as a thanks to Bucky for at least _attempting_ to cook something and felt a giddy rush of relief. Bucky was _here._ They were okay. He thought over Shuri’s advice. It had seemed almost painfully close to home, his ever-growing feelings towards Bucky being strained by their constant close proximity. Talking about it was out of the question of course. But they could at least work on talking about Bucky’s past more and working on building their trust back to where it used to be. Sparring seemed like a good way to get back into the swing of things...somewhat. He closed his eyes, and let his hands sit in the soapy warm water momentarily. The concept of Bucky, glistening with sweat and panting with exertion sprang immediately into Steve’s thoughts and he clenched his jaw, feeling something stir within him at the idea. He found it all to easy to imagine how it would feel to lick a stripe down his chest, to feel Bucky shudder and whimper needily underneath his hands, bucking his hips with want. He flushed and shook his head violently, snapping back to attention. _God._ This was going to be impossible. He felt a surge of guilt. He was meant to be supporting him, not lusting after his best friend like a horny teenager. He rubbed his face and went down to meet Bucky in the sparring room downstairs, stepping into the door-frame to come across Bucky having already started his warm-up, hurling lightning-fast punches at the punching bags with ferocity and a focus that Steve’s entrance hadn’t managed to break.

He leaned against the doorframe to watch quietly, taking in the fluid, sure movements of his best friend. As Bucky had recovered, the savage, rough fighting that had characterised the Winter Soldier had lessened, his natural grace as a fighter returning somewhat. The Bucky before him now was lighter on his toes, focused, and had re-learnt how to evade potential blows. It was one talking point that had been particularly painful for Steve initially, during the early stages of Bucky’s recuperation.

 

* * *

 

_“Are you okay Buck?! You need to be more vigilant with your defensive blocking!”_

_Bucky sighed, rubbing his jaw from where Steve had managed to land a punch._

_“I know how to block, Steve.”_

_A pregnant pause, breaths heavy from sparring._

_“Never needed to unless it was important to the mission. I always healed so what’s one more bit of damage? So long as I did what needed to be done, right? I was just an asset to them.” He snorted mirthlessly._

_Silence. Grief. Steve, not knowing what to say._

_“It’s okay Steve.”_

_“It’s_ **_not_ ** _fucking okay,” he choked out,  tears stinging the back of his eyes, feeling a pit of rage fill his stomach. He grabbed Bucky’s shoulders. “_ **_Never_ ** _let me land a hit you again if you have the chance to block it. Do anything but that. Promise me.”_

_Bucky’s eyes widened and he put his hands up._

_“Okay. Okay, Steve.”_

_He had tried harder to take care of himself after that._

 

* * *

 

Steve looked on now, gaping open-mouthed in awe. Bucky sank punches one after another, barely breaking a sweat, grim determination set on his features.

“ _He looks so fucking beautiful like this,”_ Steve thought.

He wondered what Bucky thought about while fighting. Who he was thinking of. Whether the punching bag was a surrogate for someone in his past. They still had so much to talk about.

“Enjoying the view, Rogers?” Steve caught a damp towel to the face, yelping in surprise.

“Hey!”

Bucky grinned impishly. “No slacking off, _Captain,_ get in the ring or get out.”

Steve chucked the gross towel back at him.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” he said, grinning himself.

He walked onto the mat, rolling his shoulders to warm up.

“You ready to lose, big fella?” taunted Bucky circling around to match Steve’s pace, keeping him front and centre in his sights.

“You wish, punk.”

“Jerk.”

Steve laughed and moved forward, analysing, watching for a break in Bucky’s pattern. Bucky, circled back, eyes darting up and down the length of Steve’s body, matching his stance.

For a moment neither of them moved, their breaths filling the space between them. Then they moved as one, clashing together. Their movements became a rhythm, moving in tandem, a fluid current of electricity between two men who knew each other intimately and were almost matched for strength. Bucky lashed out with a kick, swinging up to reach Steve’s side, which he deftly blocked with a swing of his arm.

“Not bad, Rogers,” he grunted, ducking low to avoid a punch.

Steve returned the favour, attempting to land a blow on Bucky’s chest. He felt a wild laugh rip from his chest, the freedom and joy of simple movement giving him thrills as they danced around each other.

Bucky grinned and evaded once more, flipping backwards away from Steve, who looked at him unabashedly with admiration, allowing his eyes to sweep over the soldier’s body.

“Like what you see?” he teased, giving a flirtatious wink that sent a swoop of heat into Steve’s belly and shorted his brain out momentarily. Bucky pressed his advantage and aimed another punch towards Steve, who caught the movement in his left hand, clamping his hand around his wrist securely.

“Maybe I do,” he grunted, struck with a moment of devilish impulsivity, stroking a line with his thumb up Bucky’s wrist. Bucky gasped and something dark and feral crossed his features with a wild grin. He swiftly grabbed Steve’s leg, and swung him around to the wall, pinning him with a knee to the chest and a forearm against his throat.

“Maybe you do, _what?_ ” he grunted, wrestling to keep him pinned.

Steve grinned, the adrenaline of the fight and the game of cat and mouse spurring him on to make reckless decisions. Somehow, at some point during this fight, it had evolved into something _more._ Something volatile. It felt like it had been brewing for the past couple of days, waiting for someone to act. Something Steve was only too happy to oblige. 

He slowly and deliberately licked his lower lip and tilted his head back, exposing his neck and keeping eye contact with the man in front of him.

Bucky’s eyes widened momentarily, grip easing off slightly enough for Steve to throw him off, rolling them to reverse their positions, the two pressed against the wall, chests heaving with exertion. Steve felt his mouth go dry at the sensation of Bucky’s body pressed beneath him, framed by Steve’s thighs. Bucky’s lips parted, going pliant under Steve’s weight and he looked up at him through his lashes, expression guarded.

“Now look who’s slacking off,” Steve quipped.

Bucky rolled his eyes, damp hair plastered to his face, a flush across his cheeks.

“Who taught you to fight dirty?” he asked, sounding miffed.

“Nat, obviously.”

Bucky groaned.

“Of course she did.”

He shifted slightly.

“Mind letting me go, Steve?”

Steve leaned back on his heels, allowing Bucky to step forward off the wall again, bringing Steve face to face with him. Bucky froze again, breath hitching as Steve made no attempt to move back. Then again, Bucky made no move to step away either. They both stood in silence for a moment, breathing heavily.

"Thought you wanted me to let you go," Steve whispered.

Bucky  _hmmed_ in agreement.

"All in good time, Rogers," he whispered back. 

Steve felt a surge of want like a fucking _ache_ in his bones. Every single cell in his body was honed like a magnet on Bucky, drawing him in, tempting him to close the distance between them. Bucky swayed momentarily in towards Steve, breath ghosting momentarily on his lips, but almost immediately seemed to remember himself again and scooted back violently. Steve jumped at the sudden movement.

“I’m tired,” Bucky said flatly, expression blank again. “I’m gonna go shower.”

And with that, he stalked out of the room and left a bewildered Steve Rogers in his wake, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  
“ _What the fuck just happened?”_ he wondered. 


	8. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okoye and Shuri attempt to not have simultaneous strokes at the antics of our boys.

**_Bucky_ **

 

Bucky slammed the door of the shared bathroom shut and fell against it, sliding down until he was perched on the cold tiles. His heart was still pounding at a million miles an hour in his ears.

“ _What the_ **_fuck_ ** _was that?”_ he thought, bewildered.

He’d wanted to touch Steve so goddamn _badly._ Had wanted to push Steve hard against the wall and grind into him, just to shut the cocky bastard up for a second. He scrubbed a hand roughly over his eyes, trying to remove the mental image of Steve fucking him against a wall from his treacherous brain. As expected, their banter and increasingly flirtatious back and forth had come back to bite him in the ass. He groaned and let his head fall into his hands. This was all his fault. He had started this. Started it as a stupid fucking coping mechanism to deal with his feelings. Making it seem like he was fine with making innuendos and cracking dirty jokes to make poor, precious Steve blush. What he _hadn’t_ counted on was Steve reciprocating, which was proving to be a new and entirely unanticipated hell.

And then there was the question of why, he thought, aggressively ripping his workout tank off and hurling it against the opposite wall. _Why_ was Steve doing it back? If it had been anyone else, Bucky would’ve suspected they harboured similar feelings in return.

No. Most likely he didn’t. This was _Steve,_ for fucks sake. Truth, Justice and the American Way. Besides, Steve had had no problem with Peggy. He felt a twinge of the old jealousy flare up once again, followed swiftly by guilt. He missed her too. And she didn’t deserve that. Most likely all of this could be chalked down to Steve assuming Bucky was using the same trick Nat used all the time and reciprocating. He resolved to avoid the issue completely and stepped into his second hideously cold shower of the week. He was going to _kill_ Natasha for teaching him to do that.

 

* * *

 

It turned out that pretending nothing was wrong and feigning nonchalance in the face of a not-quite-argument was a losing strategy. Steve was waiting for him in the living room as Bucky walked out and he groaned internally.

“Bucky,” he began. Christ, he knew that tone. It was the oncoming force of Steve wanting to Talk Things Out.

“Uhuh,” he grunted, abjectly refusing to look up and make eye contact, making as much of a show grabbing a novel off one of the bookshelves as it was humanly possible to do.

“ _Bucky,”_ with insistence this time. God damn the man.

“ _What,_ Rogers,” he snapped looking up from the novel he was pretending to glance over. Not that he was actively reading it or absorbed in finding a book he liked, but it helped to try and at least give the impression he wasn’t solely focussed on Steve.

“What do you mean, _‘what’_?” Steve repeated incredulously. “You’ve been acting strange lately and avoiding me all day since-”

Bucky looked him square in the eyes, daring him to continue. Steve trailed off, but squared his jaw defiantly and started again almost immediately.

“Since we were at practice,” he finished. God damn the mule-headed bastard. He really _was_ going to try talk about it.

He felt defensive now, and a surge of anger coursed through him. So much for pretending to be unaffected.

“Oh, _I’ve_ been acting strange, huh? Funny thing to say considering you’ve been hovering over me like a mother hen this entire goddamn time. It’s no wonder I’m on edge. Don’t you have anything else to do besides bothering me all day, Rogers?” he sniped, nastily. It felt good to lash out at Steve. At least some of his frustration was surfacing. It was _his_ fault Bucky was all over the place. He felt his anger bubble up to the surface and stood up, facing Steve with fists clenched.

Steve gaped. “I- what? I thought-” he said in a small voice.

“Thought what Steve?” he plowed ahead. _“Too late to go back now,”_ he thought wildly, and continued,

“Sorry I’m behaving too _strangely_ for you Steve, we wouldn’t want to remind you that I’m not the same perfect Bucky would we now?

Steve crossed his arms, scowling, and snapped testily, “That’s not what I was saying Buck, and you know it. _What_ is your problem?”

Bucky choked back a hysterical laugh. Good fucking lord, this had turned into an outright fight.

“You wouldn’t understand,” he spat out turning and attempting to stride away. A feat that would’ve been successful had Steve not stormed forward and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him back.

“Fucking try me, Barnes,” he said. “I don't get you. One second you act like- like-,” he faltered, seeming to lose his nerve, glancing away momentarily. He began again, “ _not_ like this. And now what? You hate me? What is it?”

Bucky ripped his arm back. “Just leave me alone.”

“ _Buck-”_

He stormed upstairs, cutting Steve’s exasperated tone off and stomped into the bedroom. Their goddamn bedroom. He turned, fully intending to slam the door shut, realising all too late that the door had been destroyed on the first night by Steve himself and felt a hysterical laugh bubble up from inside his chest.

Steve, who had followed him upstairs, quickly morphed from a scowling to concerned at his friend seemingly having a mental breakdown in the doorway of their bedroom.

“Just give me some space okay, Steve?” he gritted out, looking down. He didn’t turn to watch as Steve’s footsteps faded away downstairs without comment.

“ _Fuck,”_ he thought vehemently.

 

* * *

 

**_Wakanda_ **

 

Okoye rolled her eyes so hard it was almost a shock that she didn’t manage to dislocate something permanently, watching the antics of the two super soldiers from Shuri’s workspace. Bucky was hunched over in bed, sulking, while Steve was sulking in the kitchen. _Children._

“Amazing,” she murmured. “Have these fools never heard of communicating? With words? Like normal people?”

Shuri groaned and rubbed her face, huffing a laugh in response.

“I can’t believe this is what we’ve been given to work with,” she sighed, rubbing her temples.

Okoye smirked.

“Technically, Princess, we weren’t given anything to work with besides the operation in place.”

Shuri glared up between her fingers at the warrior, who raised her hands defensively.

“I’m just speaking the truth.”

“Yes, but we have to do _something_ . I thought sparring would be a perfectly good way for them to communicate. And they _were_ doing a fine job of it until they both had to ruin it by being the idiots that they are.”

Shuri launched up, suddenly, hit with a bolt of inspiration.

“I know,” she said.

She quickly sent something through to Steve’s communicator along with a message.

 _“There,”_ she thought, _“Perfect.”_

Providing he took the bait, the plan would go well. Although, given their current record for upholding her expectations, she wasn’t so sure any more. They could only wait and see.

 

* * *

 

**_Steve_ **

 

Steve’s communicator beeped at the sound of an incoming message, snapping him out of his reverie. He sighed in irritation and opened it to find a file from Shuri attached to a message reading,

“ _Heard you wanted to try make some local food- here’s a recipe you might like. There should be enough provisions in the store room :)”_

Well then. No time like the present, and no better way to prove just how much Steve Rogers didn’t care than to get busy. He rolled his eyes in the direction of Bucky, upstairs, and turned to face the kitchen. If they weren’t going to be talking all afternoon, then he sure as shit wasn’t going to spend the whole time hung up on it. He purposefully banged some pans around, trying to make it as clear as possible to the idiot upstairs that he _wasn’t_ brooding, thank you very much, and got started preparing the ingredients Shuri had stocked.

He sighed crankily to himself as he dumped the spices into the pan and began to stir the ingredients, glancing over the recipe every so often. He wasn’t really taking the words in. Every time he went to do the next step of the recipe, he found his thoughts circling back to Bucky. He felt a hot swoop of anger course through his chest again, and felt the handle of the pan bend under his now-clenched fist.

He couldn’t even be wholly mad at Bucky for the way the situation had panned out. Sure, Bucky had started it all by flirting obnoxiously, but he’d always been like that. Steve knew that. He sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair aggressively. But he’d been so _sure_ for the split second that Bucky had swayed towards him…. _God_ it didn’t bear thinking about. Whatever had happened between them in the training room had led to them both sulking in opposite ends of the house. He sighed again. His feelings had gotten in the way again and made things awkward between them. He gritted his teeth in resolve and went back to stirring the contents of the pan.

“ _This is it. I’ve got to stop hoping for things to develop between us if I want our friendship to last. No more flirting, no more ‘accidental’ touching, nothing,”_ he promised himself silently. He was already starting to feel more guilty than angry, the longer he thought about it. Of _course_ Bucky had felt stifled by his increased attention. He exhaled and grimly resolved to fix things between them. He could do this. He’d _been_ doing this for years now. Thoughts relatively calmer, he turned back to the recipe and continued to cook with more focus.

 

* * *

 

**_Bucky_ **

 

Bucky was starting to feel guilty. In fact, he had started to feel terrible the _second_ the words had come out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant any of them in the slightest. Of _course_ he hadn’t. It was just so much easier to be angry at someone else rather than yourself. Especially when you were on edge constantly about that particular someone else. He cringed and curled into a tighter ball on the bed, hearing Steve loudly clanking around in the kitchen below. He’d had to go and spoil it all by pushing too hard, being too handsy, too heavy handed with his flirting. It wasn’t Steve’s fault he was confused. He squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of regret overwhelming him. “ _I have to fix this,”_ he thought, eyes snapping open and sitting up abruptly.

He sniffed once. Was Steve cooking? The mouthwatering scent of spices wafted upstairs to greet him and his traitorous stomach grumbled. It smelled so familiar. “ _How did Steve learn to cook that?”_ he wondered, his emotional crisis momentarily overridden by what appeared to be Steve Rogers cooking traditional Kenyan food. Curiosity overrode his sense of pride and he wandered downstairs to locate the source of the mystery now eating away at him.

He was confronted with Steve hovering in the kitchen with two steaming plates of _pilau_.

“What’s this?” he asked in surprise. Steve jumped in surprised at Bucky’s voice, turning around with wide eyes. He shifted guiltily.

“I, um-” he stammered. “Shuri sent me a recipe for  _pilau_ so I thought I’d make some for dinner.”

Bucky felt his throat constrict a little. _God_ , he loved this man. He took a deep breath and began,

“Look, Steve, I-”

Steve cut him off and held up a hand. He looked up, seemingly nervous about what he wanted to say.

“I’m not sure what’s up exactly but I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable before. It won't happen again. Are we okay?”

Bucky was speechless. _He_ was the one acting like a jackass and not being able keep his feelings in check, and here Steve was, making him his goddamn favourite meals and looking like a kicked puppy. He smiled softly.

“Yeah, Steve. We’re good. There’s nothing to apologise for. I acted out of line.”

He smiled and gestured towards the plates of fragrant rice.

“And thanks for this. It’s actually my favourite food. Shuri makes it all the time.”

Steve smiled tightly and turned to grab a couple of forks. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Bucky felt his smile freeze and steeled himself.

“Yeah!” he said, with forced enthusiasm. “Friends.”

 

* * *

 

**_Wakanda_ **

 

“COME THE FUCK ON!” Shuri yelled at her monitor, watching the conversation unfold before her eyes.

“Are these two fucking _stupid?”_ She whirled around to face Okoye who was struggling to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

“Are you _seeing_ this Okoye? How blind can two men possibly be?”

Okoye sighed and rubbed her temples. “About as much so as every other man I know, Shuri. They’re exhausting.”

“ _I’ll_ say. I feel like I need to stage an intervention.”

“I thought that’s what we were doing,” said Okoye wryly.

“Well _apparently_ they’ve got their heads stuck so far up each other’s asses that what constitutes an intervention for _normal_ people seemingly doesn’t work on them. This is going to need some next-level micromanaging on my part.”

“Does your brother know what you’re up to here?”

“He already thinks they’re together.”

“Ah. Fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one feels a little janky to me, I'll be honest. I needed to resolve some things and to do that I had to jump around quite a lot. Sorry! I think I'm going to have it back on the rails next chapter (fingers crossed)  
> Apologies as well for the late upload. My brain hasn't been great lately and I'm finding it a little difficult to be bothered to write as much. I'm gonna keep trying to stick to an upload every 1.5 weeks and see how it goes. I'm determined to keep writing regularly :) 
> 
> *ADDENDUM*: I've just moved house and started a new job so the new chapter is likely to be up around the 3rd July- apologies for the delays, I've just not had any time lately.
> 
> *ADDENDUM* Said new job is taking up all my energy both physically and mentally right now and I genuinely just don't have the time to write sadly :( I don't know when I'll be back to finish this up. Perhaps in a month when I've had time to gather myself and manage my anxiety 'n stuff a bit better than I am currently. Thank you all for your consistent readership, it's been wonderful to see xx


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